Hate You, Too
by somerdaye
Summary: The tiniest surprise was shown in her face, along with relief. She scoffed. "Hate you too." Then she walked away. He watched her go. Seddie friendship. For Sami.


**For Sami, who's read this already. And for Kat, who told me to upload this or else.**

**This is about the Sam/Freddie FRIENDSHIP. If you want it to be shippy, though, go ahead.**

*

The wind was cool, and the day warm. A perfect day for play, as her mom liked to say. So she was at the playground with her sister, trying to see who could get higher on the swings. She won, and her sister went off to the monkey bars to show off her gymnastic abilities. She stopped swinging and sat there, bored.

A boy walked up to her. She glared at him. He seemed like the type of kid she would pick on, with his striped shirt - ew - and his perfectly neat hair. She ruffled his hair to make it messier. She couldn't help it - it was instinct. He ducked away and glared at her.

"I just came over to say hi. You were alone," he defended himself. "And you looked like you had nothing to do." She sighed. He was right.

"Fine. You can play with me. I'm Sam."

"Freddie Benson," he said it proudly, like he was Jamesboggart Washingtonally the Third. She rolled her eyes.

"Okay, _Benson_," she smiled for a second at her nickname for him, then looked around for something to do. She eyed the pole of the swingset and smirked at her new companion. "I bet I could lick that pole from here."

He looked disgusted. "Sam! Don't lick the _swingset_!" She glared at him. She didn't like being told off.

"Don't tell me what to do, _Benson_!" She stuck her tongue out and managed to lick the pole. She turned to him and made a _pfft _noise. He made a revolted noise and walked away.

Her stomach suddenly didn't feel so good. She groaned, and crossed her arms over her stomach. "Hey!" she yelled after him. He turned. "I hate you!"

He looked hurt, then angry. "I hate you too!" Then he stormed away.

*

He was walking down the hall on his first day of grade 3. He was finally allowed to go to _regular_ school. His mom used to tell him that it was too dangerous and she homeschooled him for a while. Now, though, he was able to walk down the hall - well, okay, _skip_ - and feel like a normal kid.

"Benson?!" A shrill voice broke into his musings, and he turned to see the girl from the park. He almost didn't recognise her. It had been so long. She was standing with another girl, who was really pretty, and he found that he couldn't stop looking at her. The friend giggled, and she glared at him.

"Yeah, it's me. Hi, Sam," he waved, trying to be friendly and nice. It was difficult, the way she was looking at him - like she was trying to set him on fire with her mind. "How are you?"

"Bad now that you're here!" she exclaimed, waving her arms around wildly. He decided she hadn't changed at all, and attempted to walk by her after smiling at her pretty friend. He found himself sprawled on the tiled floor a moment later. He turned and gaped at her, furious.

"You _tripped_ me!" he tried to keep his anger to a minimum, but it was hard. She was laughing almost hysterically. Her friend even bit her lip to stop from giggling again. He felt his anger boil into humiliation. "I hate you!"

She just kept laughing. "Hate you, too, Fred_-dork_." Still laughing about her clever new nickname for him, she walked away.

*

It felt strange. It felt nice. It felt _really_ nice. Which is why it felt strange.

They broke apart and stared at each other for a second. He leaned back, distracted, and she pursed her lips. He followed her example and could swear he tasted strawberry. She stood up. An awkward air settled in.

"Well," he said it just to break the stifling quiet. "That was..."

"Nice."

"Yeah, nice...uh..."

"Good...work..."

"Thank you, you too."

The words felt so wrong to him. She felt it too. It was like they were performers, trying to act out a portion of a script but saying it all wrong. She didn't run away. She didn't insult him. It was getting stranger by the second. Her eyebrows raised, and she went over the windowsill to walk away.

But he knew what to say, to make the script get torn into pieces and have them be themselves again. "Hey," he called softly, to get her attention. She turned, looking uninterested. He grinned. "I hate you."

The tiniest surprise was shown in her face, along with relief. She scoffed. "Hate you too." Then she walked away. He watched her go.

*

He was setting stuff up for the next iCarly, just humming to himself and feeling upbeat. This week's episode would be great, he could just feel it. He heard the door open, and turned to look. His sight was then clouded by a large quantity of curly blonde hair.

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!" Sam was shouting, though it sounded muffled. She was talking into the front of his shirt. She was hugging him. He let out a surprised laugh and hugged her back quickly.

"I, uh, hate you too, but...why the hugs?" The amusement in his voice was evident, and she pulled away from him and punched his arm. But she was all grinny.

"You gave Missy the cruise! Wendy told me! I hate you, I can't believe you did that, you stupid nub!" She punched him again, laughing. He laughed, too, but in an uncomfortable way.

"You, um, weren't supposed to find out about that," he scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed. She broke into a grin again.

"But I did find out. And I can't believe you gave up six months away from Crazy! _You're_ crazy!" She couldn't help it, she hugged him again. "I _hate_ you!"

He smiled. "Hate you, too, Sam. Now will you please let go of me?" She did, and suddenly fixed him with a stern glare.

"We never speak of this."

He raised his hand. "Scout's honor."

Her face broke into a smile again. "I hate you, Fredward."

"Yeah, you've said that."

*

It was the best birthday party their friend could hope for. Strobe lights, balloons, techno music and awesome dancing. Also, good junk food. That was all she cared about, really, but their friend was out on the dance floor, ecstatic. She leaned against the buffet table and pulled at her too-short skirt. It made her uncomfortable, but she wasn't exactly wearing it willingly.

"Carly force it on you?" he smirked, taking a handful of popcorn from the table. She rolled her eyes.

"Yes! And I can't take it off without hurting her feelings," she fidgeted some more, then sighed. "Seriously. I just want ham. Or any other kind of meat, really. All they have here is junk, and while I'm not complaining, I want my meat, dammit." He laughed and nodded in agreement.

"I know. My mom would flip," he thought for a second, shrugged, then took a Fatcake. "Wanna dance?" It was so out of nowhere that she looked around for a second before realising it was him who asked.

She pretended to contemplate it. "Hmm...I could either dance with a dweeb, _or_ go get some ham."

"All right, I know where I stand," he poked her side and she couldn't help giggling.

"Oh really? Where do you stand?" she questioned, her hands protecting her ticklish sides. He snorted.

"Well, let's see. There's ham, at the top. Then Carly, then fried chicken, then ribs, then Fatcakes, then your mom, then pudding, then steak, then Spencer, then spaghetti tacos, then Melanie, then pie, then Wendy, then German sausages, then Gibby, then raw meat - then me." He nodded at the end of his list, as though it made perfect sense. And it did.

"Dude, I hate you." She shoved him on her way out the door, laughing.

"I hate you too!" He had to shout over the music, but she gave him an impish smile before disappearing out the door.

*

It was a rainy day in Seattle, but that was to be expected. What was not expected was the sobs wracking through the girl's tiny body as she curled up outside 8-C. The occupants weren't home, and she didn't have the will power to break in completely. So she just sat there, sobbing. He walked out of 8-D, and stopped in his tracks.

"...S...Sam?" he asked, confused and worried. Her head jerked out of her arms, and they stared at each other for a split second. He didn't ask what was wrong, he just knelt in front of her and peered in her face. She sniffled, and wiped her nose on her sleeve.

"My dad," she croaked out. It was all she could manage before her eyes flooded with tears again, and she tried to stand up and walk away.

He wasn't having that. "No, Sam. Stay." He crushed her against his chest and let her cry there, not saying anything until her tears had run dry.

"I hate you," she mumbled into his chest. He nodded and rested his chin on her head. "I really, really hate you."

"I hate you too, Sam. And it's, you know, okay to cry sometimes."

She shook her head vehemently. "Not for me it isn't. And not in front of dorks like you it isn't." He tried not to laugh, but couldn't quite manage it. She let out a chuckle and sighed. "You can let go of me, now."

He did, and smiled at her. She smiled back tentatively.

*

He was finally here. On a date. With the beautiful brunette of his dreams. She smiled sweetly at him across the restraunt table, and he grinned stupidly back. The date was going amazingly, there was no awkwardness, as he originally feared, nor did he make a gigantic fool out of himself. In all regards, this was some sort of heaven.

"I'll be back, bathroom," she said, scooting out of her booth and walking away. She was sort of giggly. He felt an idiotic smile plaster on his face as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back. This was perfect.

Or...close to perfect. He felt there was something missing, but he couldn't figure out what. No matter, he wasn't about to dwell on it. Not when things were finally getting somewhere with his long time crush. He drifted off into fantasies for a moment or two, but was brought back to earth by his ringtone.

He flipped his phone open, somewhat annoyed by the interruption, and let out a surprised laugh at the text.

_hey hey. carly mite luv u yet. or, u no, not. ya, prolly not._

Her grammar definitely left something to be desired. He was about to text her back about how great the date was going, actually, and too bad she couldn't see how much fun their friend was having, when someone tapped on the window beside his booth. Looking over, he was met with the grinning face of the girl who just texted him. She waved. He shook his head, shaking with silent laughter.

She breathed on the glass so it went misty. Then she wrote _I HATE YOU_ and underlined it. Twice. He turned back to his cell phone. _I hate you too. Now go before Carly sees you._ She stuck her tongue out at him. He gestured for her to leave. With a salute, she disappeared into the darkening parking lot.

Just then, his date slid in across from him and smiled. "So, where were we?"

*

She was punching and kicking the hell out of the punching bag in front of her. She just let all her pent-up frustration out and BAM. The poor bag was getting the stuffing beat out of it. She was frustrated that senior year was coming to a close. She was frustrated that her best friend would be in New York and her sometimes friend would be in California. And she would be here. In Seattle. At community college. Living with her best friend's older brother.

"Ugh!" she screamed, putting more effort into her physical attacks. "I hate you, I hate you, _I hate you_!"

"I hate you, too." A voice said, amused, behind her. She spun around and found herself face-to-face with her laughing sometimes friend. The sometimes friend that was leaving her for California. Still, she couldn't help smiling back.

"Yeah, just be happy this punching bag isn't you, dork," she grabbed her bottle of water and took a long drink. When she was done, the bottle was almost empty. "So, why are you here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he strolled away from the entrance and poked her stomach. "None of us could find you. Carly was getting worried."  
"Well, I was here."

"Taking your emotions out on some poor bag. I should draw a sad, bruised face on it."

"Keep talking and you'll be the one with a sad, bruised face."

They stared each other down. He was the first to sigh and look away. "I'm sorry. Look, I know it's hard, since Carly and I are leaving and you'll be the only one making sure Spence doesn't burn the apartment complex down, but it's not like we're gone forever, Sam."

She sighed, too. "I know that. It's just...I dunno. I think I'll miss you." She made a face at that sentence, and he laughed.

"I'll miss you, too. But you know I'll be down in Seattle a lot. Mom says every weekend, but I'm gonna try and get out of that."

She smiled in a strained way and turned back to the punching bag. He rested a hand on her shoulder for half a second, then left her alone with her frustration.

*

"Palamino, Wendy."

Principal Franklin was calling names. The students were marching up to get their diplomas and marching down as high school graduates. He thought about this as he felt the scroll in his palm, which was suddenly sweaty. After Palamino was -

"Puckett, Samantha."

He groaned inwardly. He wasn't looking forward to this, and possibly getting in trouble, but he knew how hard she was taking this seperation thing, and knew he had to do it. She was slouching up the stage steps, looking bored and indifferent, as she took the diploma from their principal of almost eight years. He smiled at her and extended his hand for her to shake. She stared at it for a second, then hugged him briefly. Everyone tittered.

She let go of their surprised principal and did victory arms. He took a deep breath. Now or never. He stood up.

"Hey!" Everyone spun to stare at him. His mom was nearly having a heart attack. She stared at him with her mouth slightly open. He grinned from ear to ear and shouted, "I hate you!"

The whole room was quiet as she processed these words. Then she cracked up. She stumbled off the stage and into his arms, laughing the whole way. "I hate you too."


End file.
